Harthwin was getting hungry. He slumped forward in his saddle in the midst of another depression and moaned, “Are we there, yet?”
There was no answer from anyone. Not anymore.  It had been almost a week since they had left Fusion, and the only queries to come from Harthwin’s mouth were about food or when they were going to arrive at a place that offered more than the Whent Bread and Kree-wine that was their daily ration for the duration of the trip. Brynd had offered to stop so that Harthwin could forage for berries or hunt if he wished, but the chubby little man grew silent at such offers, and grew content with the offerings at hand for a short while before beginning to complain again.
“Is no one going to answer me?”
Brynd barked something at Harthwin, who immediately looked down at his hands in silence. Brynd rolled his eyes at looked over at Cain.
“What are you thinking about?”
Cain looked up, caught off guard by the question.
“Hm?”
“Don’t ‘hm’. You heard exactly what I said.”
Cain smiled. “I heard it, yes. Doesn’t mean I was listening. It’s quite rare that something of substance escapes that trap you call a mouth.”
Brynd scowled, and a fierce look came upon him. “I’m your superior officer. Hold your tongue.”
Cain stared straight ahead. “Yes, sir! Sorry, sir.”
After a pause, Brynd’s scowl broadened into a grin. “Gods, I love making you sweat.” He clapped Cain on the back. “Brighten up! Some day, you’ll be a Half Monitor, too, and we can both harass subordinates.”
“It’s more fun harassing you, friend”, Cain said with a smile and galloped ahead of the group. He stared up at the sky as he rode, hoping to catch a glimpse of Corna as she rose from her bed. It gave him peace to see his sun mother, who he was born under, in full reign. It was a sign of fortune, though Cain had yet to reap any benefits of that fortune. It has solidified him an opportunity in the Ranks of Fusion, but he had yet to climb any higher than Quarter Monitor, the rank he currently held. There was a small amount of pride in the position; only those of noble sun birth were qualified to assume the mantle of the protectors of Fusion and the surrounding lands. He had passed through vigorous training and taken his vows, and now, in his third watch, was going to have an opportunity to put his interrogation skills to use. The thought saddened him as he crested a ridge, and Salttown came into view.
A Wiseman has been murdered in Salttown.
He ran the words over in his head as he rode down the slope, his mounts hooves softened by the mossy ground. If it was true, it was an unspeakable crime, and one that had an unclear resolution. To touch a Wiseman without permission was a crime punishable by death, and in the entire history of the Order, only one Wiseman had ever been murdered, and that was almost 500 years ago, just before the War of of Succession. The carrier hawk had come in the day prior, and Cain’s party had been sent out immediately. Not knowing what to expect, Brynd had them play to caution and travel over prepared. Typically, they travelled light on patrols, with light armor and a dirk, and though this is what Cain was currently sporting, Brynd was in full plate mail, his trademark mace hanging by his side. He could barely turn his head in the suit, and looked even more ridiculous on the small gelding he was riding. He had left his war horse back at the stables, which played to the irony of what he was wearing.
“Cain! Hold!”
Cain turned around to find that Brynd had halted the group and was distributing orders to Nitt and Loiter, the two scouts in the group. As Cain rejoined the group, Brynd was handing a scroll to Nitt and giving his orders.
“Bring this summons into the town and go straight to the town Comptain. Brillard is his name. Tell him to meet us here right away. This situation is unbeknownst to the villagers, and the last thing we need is the town panicking over a murdered Wiseman, let alone a Royal Guard coming into town. Go now.” They nodded and rode off, and as he watched them disappear beyond the hill, a chill ran down his spine. The whole situation made him uneasy, but that was not something to vocalize freely. The Royal Guard were to be fearless; unhindered by even the most distressing of situations. But even the Prime Monitor  was hesitant to make the journey to investigate. Of course, he would never admit this freely, and behind the feigned disinterest in his voice as he gave Brynd the orders, Cain caught the briefest glimpse of concern in his eyes, and that was enough to make any man tremble.
It was not long before Nitt and Loiter appeared over the hill again, followed closely by Comptain Brillard, a man of small stature, and even smaller personality. He rode a small gelding and coughed every few minutes. As he approached, Cain could see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes. Brynd rose from the ground and greeted Brillard with a nod.
“T-thank you for coming, Half Monitor,” said Brillard. “The situation is a l-less than desirable one, that is for sure.”
Brynd nodded. “Where is the body?”
“W-where we found it. We feared to move it due to the..... nature of his passing.”
“Nature? How did he die?”
Brillard stared down at his hands as he answered. “I...we’re not sure.”
A look of impatience crossed Brynd’s face. “‘Not sure’? Is he dead or not?”
“I- he is, but....but he.....”
“ He what?”
Brillard, clearly distraught, pulled at his collar. After a long silence, he spoke.
“He....his....head... w-was..... dissolved.”